


Purpose for Being

by SadieYuki



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry Allen Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e18 Versus Zoom, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, could be read as romantic or platonic, post Episode s02e18 Versus Zoom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 00:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10320803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadieYuki/pseuds/SadieYuki
Summary: “Barry? What's…?” Oliver trailed off, taking a prolonged look at him and frowning at whatever he saw. “What happened?”Barry grimaced, hands still deep in his pockets. The words wouldn't come, and suddenly the ticket seemed to be the best way to explain everything. He pulled the worried stub out, handed it to Oliver, and waited.Central City to Star CityDeparts: 7:52pmArrives: 11:43pm





	

Barry wasn’t sure what he was doing there, standing in the hallway as he shifted his weight back and forth. For the first time since following up on a lead on his mother’s case, he’d had to actively premeditate his visit to Star City (Starling at the time), and suddenly the reason felt so flimsy. Why was he taking so much time out of his day to come to Star City when he should be at home, helping the others come up with a plan to save Caitlin?

Barry rapped his knuckles on the glass in four sharp taps before he lost his nerve, ducking his head as he waited. He’d never felt so out of place; he’d never found himself dreading finding and taking comfort in his Star City counterpart. But that was it, wasn’t it? They weren’t counterparts. Not anymore.

As moments passed without any hint of movement, Barry started to worry that maybe Oliver wasn’t home, out fighting crime or simply at the Arrow Cave. Or maybe he was just asleep. Barry snorted; Green Arrow business was far more likely. 

_I should’ve called ahead…_ Barry thought, fiddling with the ticket stub burning a hole in his pocket. He’d never had to before. Normally he’d check one place and then just run to the next...

Barry flinched at the sudden sound of the door handle turning, and he tried to compose himself as he turned back towards the door. He should have known; Oliver wasn’t the type of person to let his footsteps make a sound.

It was a testament to how often Barry showed up unannounced that there wasn’t a shred of confusion on Oliver’s face as he opened the door, just a fond gaze as he considered the man in front of him.

It was too good to last, because the longer Oliver looked at Barry’s face, the more fondness faded into guarded concern. Oliver’s body tensed minutely, hand twitching towards the bow Barry knew was hidden in arm’s reach. Barry sighed and shook his head, signalling that there was no threat they needed to deal with, and Oliver relaxed but tilted his head in consideration. Barry still hadn’t said anything, and he could tell that _now_ Oliver was confused.

“Barry? What's…?” Oliver trailed off, taking another prolonged look at him and frowning at whatever he saw. “What happened?”

Barry grimaced, hands still deep in his pockets. The words wouldn't come, and suddenly the ticket seemed to be the best way to explain everything. He pulled the worried stub out, handed it to Oliver, and waited.

_Central City to Star City_  
_Departs: 5:52pm_  
_Arrives: 11:43pm_

Barry watched as confusion flitted across Oliver’s face, and a moment later Barry felt like a hand had seized his insides as Oliver’s face fell and his head lifted to meet his gaze. Barry tried to hold it, but it was too much and he looked away, pain building in his gut, in his chest. Team Flash—and could he even call it that anymore?—had been there, they'd seen everything, but this—having to _tell_ someone—made him feel emptier inside than losing his speed had.

A hand was on his elbow, and Barry was dimly aware of someone pulling him and the sound of a door closing behind him. He forced himself to lift his head again and found Oliver still looking at him; Barry was grateful that at least pity was absent from his eyes.

“What happened?” Oliver repeated, voice soft.

Barry shook his head compulsively, working one hand’s fist in the palm of the other. Where to start? So many things had led to this, so many bad decisions, _his_ bad decisions—

“Stop.”

Barry looked at Oliver’s face again and found his eyes stinging at the sight of it. He didn’t deserve Oliver’s concern, his help, his—

“You’ve been spending too much time with me,” Oliver said, and Barry blinked when Oliver shook his head affectionately, looking oddly torn between pride and regret. “You’re blaming yourself for everything going on around you—”

“It’s my fault, of course I’m blaming myself—”

Oliver sighed, grabbing Barry’s elbow again. “C’mon, sit down,” he said, leading him to the long charcoal couch that Barry distinctly remembered passing out on the last time he’d been there. Too much running, not enough glucose. Barry blinked back tears; at least his wallet would appreciate the decrease in required caloric intake.

More than ever, Barry appreciated Oliver’s hyperawareness of detail and body language. He knew without needing to ask that Barry needed physical contact. Normally Barry was very selective about who he allowed touch from, but those he did trust he was very tactile with. And when Barry felt like he was jumping out of his skin with unrestrained energy, he needed that contact to ground himself.

Oliver knew this, and without being asked, he sat close to Barry; not too close to crowd him, but close enough that their legs were touching, close enough that he could reach out and be reached if needed.

Barry swiped a hand over his face, dragging it as though he could wipe away all of the negative thoughts that plagued him. “I don’t...” Barry bit his lip, he wasn’t really sure what he most needed to talk about. “I don’t know where to start,” he said finally. He could feel his body tremble under the weight of everything that had happened, and Oliver rested a hand on his knee to ground him before he could spiral too far down.

“Start from the beginning.”

Barry nodded, mentally cataloging what he’d already told Oliver about his encounters with Zoom and the metas he’d sent from Earth-2 to kill him. He grimaced when he realized he hadn’t shared much since the Vandal Savage incident. Barry was at least grateful that he didn’t need to start from his paralysis, but he hadn’t even had time to talk about his visit to Earth-2 and the events that transpired there. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand the look on Oliver’s face if he told him about being held captive by Zoom.

“I... okay, so I told you about Earth-2 Wells, right? And his daughter?” Oliver nodded, gaze darkening; he hadn’t taken well to the news of another Harrison Wells. “Harry didn’t do this,” Barry hastened to add. “Actually, he technically did, but—Oliver, it’s not about Harry,” Barry insisted as Oliver seemed to get more riled up. “I’m just trying to set up—” Barry paused, taking a deep breath as Oliver settled down too. “Sorry, a lot has happened and with the Darhk thing going on... I didn’t want to add—I didn’t want to be another burden—”

“You’ll never be a burden to me, Barry,” Oliver said, squeezing his hand on Barry’s knee. “I understand why you didn’t tell me, you don’t have to apologize for being busy dealing with Zoom.”

Maybe it was the fact that they were both so used to keeping secrets from the people around them, and maybe it wasn’t healthy of them, but Barry appreciated the unspoken agreement between them. If they wanted to talk about something, they would, but if they held back, the other usually understood that there was a reason behind it. It was why Barry hadn’t been mad at Oliver for not telling him about his brief stint with the League of Assassins (nor his plan to essentially trade his life for Thea’s) until everything was all said and done (and maybe Barry was naive for letting Oliver cash in that favor without asking for all the facts).

Normally it was a great arrangement, but now Barry wished that Oliver already had all the facts; it would have spared him from having to recount all of the painful revelations of the last few days.

Ultimately, Barry told him everything, despite Harry’s warnings. Screw the multiverse, he needed to talk about this for his own sanity. He told Oliver all about Earth-2, about how they got there, the ‘sightseeing,’ the weird professions their friends and enemies were filling, the technologies, and about impersonating his doppelganger. He told him about the pain of realizing that Earth-2 Joe hated him and how that was further compounded when he was killed by Killer Frost and Deathstorm, Caitlin and Ronnie’s doppelgangers.

“I’d like to say we found Jesse, but Zoom’s minions found us first.” Barry shuddered, remembering the pain of his friends’ doppelgangers laying into him. He kept trying to tell himself they were just like the metas he dealt with on a daily basis, but it was so much harder when their faces were those of his friends. Barry shook his head, gaze burning a hole into the hand on his knee. “I almost... I think I wasn’t giving my all against them, especially Ronnie,” Barry admitted. “I think part of me thought I deserved it from being unable to save him from the singularity—”

“That was _not_ your fault,” Oliver interrupted sternly, and Barry deflated a bit. Oliver had said as much many times before, but the fact of the matter was that the singularity never would have formed in the first place if he hadn’t been selfish and tried to prevent his mother’s murder. Barry didn’t bother to correct him, but if the frown he was sure Oliver was sending him was any indication, he knew exactly what was going through Barry’s mind.

“Anyway,” Barry said in a poor attempt to change the subject, “they beat me up pretty well, and Zoom showed up. Brought me to his secret lair,” Barry scowled, still upset with himself that he’d been captured in the first place.

His sardonic tone (because seriously, a secret lair, how cliche) did nothing to distract Oliver, but rather than interrupt again he simply squeezed Barry’s knee in a silent show of support, the small gesture doing more than words ever could to express his concern. He appreciated that Oliver had skipped asking if he was alright because this whole conversation was a pretty clear indicator that he _wasn’t,_ and any physical injuries from the ordeal would have long since healed.

Barry told him about the man in the mask, about how he’d worked with Jesse to decipher his prisoner code. He told Oliver about his doppelganger and how he’d helped him break out of his cell. He told him about Killer Frost’s change of heart to help them escape when Zoom arrived, and the guilt that had been eating at him ever since, having to leave the man in the mask behind. He told him about escaping back to the breach, how Zoom had almost succeeded in capturing Harry, and about Zoom’s last act before they could close the breach.

“Zoom killed Jay, which we recently found out was really a time remnant of himself, and his name’s not even Jay, it’s Hunter Zolomon—” Barry paused in his tangent, lips twitching as he caught the look on Oliver’s face. It was endearing; it was the look he got when he had no idea what was being said, when he didn’t understand a word coming from his lips, and yet still tried his hardest to pay attention. Normally Barry noticed it when he (or Felicity) went on a science tangent, and he usually continued it just to see that face longer. “I’ll just stick to Zoom.”

“That would be helpful,” Oliver admitted, and Barry let out another amused huff before the weight of his story began to get to him again. “Take your time,” Oliver said gently, squeezing Barry’s knee as he raised his other hand to rest on Barry’s shoulder. Barry let himself get lost for a moment in the sensation of Oliver’s thumb rubbing soothingly into the tense muscle under his hand.

“We opened a breach to Earth-2 again, tried to set a trap for Zoom. We couldn't just— _I_ couldn't just leave that world at his mercy. But the trap, it backfired... Zoom took Wally. Joe’s son,” Barry reminded when he noticed Oliver’s questioning look. “He gave me a choice, Wally’s life for my speed. It wasn't a choice at all, of course I had to save Wally, and I'd do it again, but...

“I don't feel _whole,”_ Barry said, voice cracking. “My speed has been such a part of me, but it's not just that, it's... I feel like... I dunno how to explain it—”

“Like your purpose for being has been taken from you,” Oliver offered softly, and Barry choked on a sob because _yes, that was it._

For more than half of Barry’s life, he’d been fixated on proving his father’s innocence, and while that had been a leading factor in his choice of profession, the underlying motivation behind choosing to be a CSI was the desire to help people. Barry had had multiple job offers from research facilities and the like right out of college, but criminal forensics was his passion; it was the best way he knew to apply his knowledge towards helping the people he cared about, and the city he loved.

Barry had always felt that was enough, but when the particle accelerator exploded and he woke up with the ability to outpace a bullet, suddenly his life’s purpose felt so much more attainable. He’d always felt that he’d been making a difference with his forensics work, but physically being out there, making a tangible difference, seemed to be the final piece of the puzzle.

 _This_ was what he was always meant to do. He’d never wanted to be a police officer, he’d never felt the need to be on the front lines because he knew his abilities were best suited for his lab. But his abilities had evolved, and with the addition of his speed, suddenly the front lines were the best place for him. He could still use his brain, but he could also clear out a burning apartment building in the span of seconds. He’d gone from making sure the guilty party got justice for their misdeeds to making sure those deeds couldn’t be carried out in the first place, and he found he much preferred that.

But now, knowing he’d been able to prevent so many crimes and loss of life, Barry didn’t think he’d ever be able to return to picking up the pieces again. He still loved being a CSI, but now he’d be working on cases that he knew he’d have been able to stop if he still had his speed. Every day would be a constant reminder of how useless he’d become, a cacophony of guilt that would only get worse as time went on.

Worse than feeling useless, however, was the guilt of having given up. The loss of his speed had felt like a vacuum, and in that moment, having collapsed off the treadmill, Barry had wished that he could’ve just stayed there. And when Zoom had attacked him and pinned him to the wall, Barry had only felt relieved that he wouldn’t have to live with that gaping wound.

“I didn’t even fight back, not really...” Barry admitted, shuddering as he thought of Zoom’s hand crushing his windpipe and the lack of resistance he’d given to it. “If Caitlin hadn’t...”

Oliver’s grip shifted and suddenly Barry felt himself pulled into the archer’s embrace, his body collapsing listlessly against a solid chest as strong arms encircled him. Barry’s fingers clawed at the fabric of Oliver’s shirt, and he tried to focus on the feeling of Oliver’s thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his back and the nape of his neck to further ground himself.

“How’m I supposed to do this?” Barry breathed, eyes wide yet unable to take in his surroundings, trapped in the whirlwind of his broken psyche. “I've spent so long helping people and now I _can't—”_

“You can still help people, Bar,” Oliver said, the vibrations from his chest rumbling against Barry’s cheek.

Barry shook his head as much as his current position allowed. “But without my speed I—”

“You're Barry Allen,” Oliver finished resolutely, stopping Barry’s word vomit of disparagement. “Look, maybe you don't remember, but when we met you didn't have super powers.” Barry grunted in irritation— _obviously_ he remembered—but Oliver plowed on, shifting his grip around Barry’s torso. “You saved my life, and you didn't need powers to do that. Barry Allen saved me, the Flash didn't exist yet. You can still do good, Bar, just by being you.”

Barry closed his eyes, trying to envision the person Oliver saw in him. It frustrated him that he couldn’t remember his mindset from just two years ago, that he couldn’t remember the person he’d been and would now need to be again. He reminded himself that Cisco and Caitlin had been helping him all this time without powers of their own (mostly; Cisco was still learning to harness his vibes), managing to save the day even without using Barry’s speed sometimes. They were proof that Barry could still make a difference, he would just have to learn a new way to do so.

Barry toed his shoes off habitually before pulling his legs onto the couch and curling them underneath himself. Oliver shifted wordlessly to accommodate the new position but didn’t relinquish his hold, and the pair slipped into a comfortable silence filled only with the sounds of their breathing. Barry wished they could just stay like this and ignore the burdens facing them outside of the loft, voicing as much to Oliver.

Oliver let out a considering hum. “Do you want to stay?”

 _Yes._ Barry sighed heavily, wishing it could be that simple. “I’ve gotta get back to Central, I have work in the morning and I can’t just—” Barry took a breath. “There’s a red-eye train at three or something that’ll get me back on time.”

“You’re allowed to call in sick, you know.”

Barry sighed, shaking his head. “I... I don’t want that to snowball into... I’ve gotta keep working. That’s the only way I can keep my head above water right now.”

“Alright,” Oliver allowed, not pushing the matter.

“Can I...” _Can I stay here until then?_

“Of course. You’re always welcome here, Bar.” _You’re always welcome in Star City. You’re always welcome with me._

**Author's Note:**

> The timeline for these series was a bit convoluted around this episode, considering Barry showed up in Arrow late to Laurel's funeral with his speed when he didn't have his speed on The Flash. After doing some research, it sounds like since the scene was filmed before they knew where the two shows would be come episode 18, it just didn't match up right. Apparently the intention was that Barry regains his speed after Laurel's death, hence showing up late and the look on his face when he confirms he was "dealing with Zoom." So for this fic, Laurel's still alive, but dies very soon after this, when Barry's back in Central City still without his speed. Not that this is all wholly necessary for the fic, but it was going through my mind for fic logistics.
> 
> This is my first fic in this fandom, and honestly I'm just so enraptured by these characters, so there will probably be more in the future. We'll see what happens. Because I'm addicted to them, I do have a 5+1 in the works, so keep an eye out for that! For readers of my other fics (particularly LCDG), those are still on the mind, I assure you.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!


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